Under the Willow Tree
by Liasis
Summary: A beautiful summer's day at Hogwarts is overshadowed by thoughts of the struggle Hermione and Severus, now married, have endured together. Perhaps they can find comfort in each other. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

Hermione and Severus strolled side by side down the path, away from the castle and towards the forest. They were a bit tired but wanted to enjoy the beautiful weather, the shining sun and clear skies so rare in the Scottish Highlands even in the summer. The students and most of the staff were gone and everything seemed strangely quiet, almost abandoned. They felt isolated from the entire world, as though the forest and the mountains and the lake before them were theirs and theirs alone.

The weather was so hot that Severus had left his cloak, jacket, and necktie in their chambers and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to the elbow, his top few buttons undone. Hermione wore a short pale blue dress and sandals, her wavy hair tied up off her shoulders. It almost felt like they were on holiday, all but for the tinge of sadness that clouded her expression when she thought he wasn't watching, the way her gaze went to her feet instead of the beautiful skies.

She seemed a bit better today, he thought, but it was difficult to tell. Her mood was ever-changing, and he could not blame her. He only wished there was something he could do to assuage her sadness, her fears.

It had not always been like this. Their first years together had been all too easy, all too enjoyable. He had never had someone to love like this, someone who caused everything she touched in his life to turn to gold. The feeling was incomparable. And it was still this way, even now, but her characteristic joy and levity had slowly been sapped away from her because of her own misplaced feelings of failure. It hurt him deeply to see it, and yet it could be nothing compared to her pain.

When they had married, she made it clear to him that she wanted to become something that he had no intention of ever being - a parent. He had refused to consider it in any serious way, the thought ludicrous to him. Severus Snape, a father? Whatever a parent was, he simply wasn't. He knew himself capable of many things, but of this... how could she imagine it? Surely, this was optimism bordering on absurdity. In any case, he had been fully content with his life - their life - as it was.

But then it had gnawed at him. Who was he to prevent her from this insistent desire of hers? They were partners; they had to learn what could be compromised, and accept what could not. And she was unwavering on this. He thought of having a child with her - _her_ \- and what a thing it would be. Was it really so easy, to lie together and not so many months later hold a baby - half her, half him - in their arms? He thought of the intensity and variety of the emotions she made him feel, and wondered how a baby would change that. Surely, there was no room left for anyone else. He did not imagine he had much left to give.

He eventually had assented. Hermione had been blissfully excited. He had feverishly read everything he could find on childbirth and development, anticipating that there was only so much time to prepare. Nine months seemed hardly any time at all. He learned the black and white details, at what age a child should begin to crawl, to walk, to speak, and it began to feel like a reality that he could start to anticipate. He had, with trepidation, almost been looking forward to it. Would theirs follow the same pattern, seemingly so prescriptive, so regimented? By four months, doing this. By six months, doing that. What would they look like? What would their personality be? How had his own mother managed this? How had anyone?

It had at first been fun when they had begun trying, boundlessly joyous for Hermione at the thought of what they were doing, their love no longer simply expressive but now purposeful. It gave everything a whole new meaning. Then when a few months had passed without any development it became clinical, experimental, as though she needed to figure out what they were doing incorrectly. When it didn't seem as though any combination of positions or tilting of hips or knowledge of cycles made any difference, she felt hopeless. Her mood had swiftly changed from one extreme to the other, and although he did not think she blamed him, he still felt guilty. He did not know what to do. There were fertility potions they could brew, but neither had experience with them, and they were expensive and could be risky to her health. They did not want to turn to them unless necessary.

Recently, their love-making had lost its charm, simply exhausting and fraught with the feeling of dismay. They had taken a break from it, Hermione wanting to sort out her thoughts, saddened that she had caused this wonderful thing to become difficult, frustrated and angry that nothing made any difference. Severus only wanted her to be happy again.

She thought that there must be something the matter, some deeper issue. She assumed that something was inherently flawed within her. Was it her lack of magical blood, and incompatibility with Severus's, that prevented a child from taking? She did not think this was really the case - Severus himself had had a Muggle father. The curse that Dolohov had cast in the Department of Mysteries, which left a scar across her middle - had it left a less visible injury, one inside of her? This was a more likely possibility. Or, was it an effect from any number of curses suffered, or potions consumed, or unknown magic delved into that could have done some irreparable damage? The Polyjuice potion gone wrong. The petrification from the Basilisk. The Time-Turner. These thoughts ran round and round in her head, unceasing, unanswerable.

Severus, on the other hand, felt the blame could only be his. It was the only thing that made any sense. It was just like him, he thought, that try as he might, he could not give her what she really wanted.

It had been over a year, he realized, his heart sinking a little. More than a year since they began trying. A long period of frustration, of Hermione not being her normal happy herself, of Severus feeling helpless. It had certainly taken its toll on them, individually and together. He looked at her now, noticing her withdrawn expression, and wished that it was not this way.

Hermione, her hands moving to sit in the pockets of her dress, was preoccupied with similar thoughts. They swirled through her mind and she struggled to grasp them, to hold onto them, for more than a moment before they drifted away. It was not just her mind but her body that had recently begun to feel insubstantial and disjointed, as though it was simply an empty frame. It certainly seemed that way. She could not imagine that her stomach, which no longer felt much hunger, still lay within her, that her heart beat as strongly as it used to, or even at all. She felt so fragile, as though a strong wind could send her to her knees and she might never be able to get back up again. Even to work up the strength to leave the castle this afternoon had been a struggle, despite knowing that it would make her feel better. She didn't know if she thought she deserved to feel better.

They walked past Hagrid's hut, the doors and windows shut tight. He was likely out in the forest on a day like today. She had not visited him recently; perhaps they would see him on the grounds.

She realized that she had not made much time for anyone recently. End of term was always busy for Severus, and she had allowed herself to become so preoccupied with work that they had not spent much time together in the past month. This was the first occasion they had been in each other's company where neither was brewing potions or marking essays in quite a while. It felt nice - life seemed so lonely without him.

They entered the forest and felt the temperature drop in the shade. They walked together in silence along well-defined animal trails, listening to the buzz of the insects high in the trees. A small group of Thestrals sat in a clearing they approached on their right, the creatures' heads turning to watch the couple before they moved slightly away from them. One stretched out its bat-like wings, flapping them and snorting quietly, signaling that he had seen them before rearranging his wings against his sides.

They watched the Thestrals for a few moments longer, taking in their eerie yet elegant form, before Hermione's hand found Severus's. She tugged it and led him forward along the path. He almost blushed, embarrassed that little things such as her seeking his hand caused such a strong fondness to bloom in his stomach, as though he were a young, unblemished man once again. She could almost make him believe it.

They avoided the stinging nettles as they walked along, minding their footing as they navigated over the roots strewn across the path. They listened to the warblers singing deep in the brambles and noticed a nuthatch high in a pine tree tapping away. They found a bush of honeysuckle and stood beside it for a little while, Hermione showing him how to pinch off the bottom of the flower to taste the droplet of sweet nectar inside. Two red squirrels chased each other down one tree trunk, across the path in front of them and then up a swaying pine, oblivious to the two humans observing their loud chittering scrap with amusement.

Hermione took his hand again and they carried on their way, following the winding trail as it became wider and ended upon the shore of the expansive lake. There was a patch of grass sheltered by a weeping willow that they walked towards, and when they reached it Hermione pulled out a bag she had carried with her in her dress pocket. Within it was a blanket which Severus took and unrolled to lay under the tree. They sat upon it, kicking off their shoes and relaxing. Within her bag were also two ham and cheese sandwiches wrapped in paper, which they ate while sat beside the other, looking up at the castle in the distance. After lunch they lied on their backs, their hips touching, reveling in the peace and their togetherness. Neither of them could remember when it had last been this nice.

It was wonderful to lie there under the dappled light cast by the drooping branches of the willow - no purpose, simply enjoying the day for what it was. The wind was still faintly chilly coming off the lake but the sunshine was strong and pleasant and reached them even there. A bee zoomed overhead, busy and determined on its unwavering path, and bright blue dragonflies perched on reeds at the water's edge.

"I think that's a kestrel," Hermione murmured, extending her arm and pointing out a small bird hovering just to their left. Its tail fanned out before it dove down to the ground. "My dad's a bit of a birder," she explained, "but I don't know that many."

She turned her head to his, watching his soft grey eyes gently meet hers, the tips of his hair tousled by the breeze. He moved onto his side and propped himself on his right elbow, looking her over.

He bent close to her, his fingers tenderly tracing her shoulder, then her collarbone, then the dappled light upon her skin which shifted with the breeze, simply studying her. She closed her eyes and lied there, her hands folded on her stomach, enjoying the feel of his touch and the sound of the branches swaying, the lapping upon the shore of the lake water stirred by the breeze. But to Severus she appeared sad, as she often did these days when turned to her own thoughts, her closed eyes tired, the corners of her mouth tight. He never knew whether it was better to distract her or leave her be. He wished he could save her from it.

Severus moved his left hand and lovingly stroked her cheek, then played with her hair, then ran his fingers along her arm, admiring her delicate wrists, the gold band on her ring finger causing a pleasant tightening in his stomach. He rested his hand with his own ring upon hers. His eyes followed the line of her jaw, her cheekbone, the beginnings of the small smattering of freckles upon her nose that only appeared in the summer. She was so beautiful.

Emotions that he could not stop overwhelmed him. He could hardly believe that he alone got to kiss her, to make love to her, sleep next to her at night, fold her in his arms, touch her like this. Hermione might believe she was disappointing him, but her presence alone was enough... more than enough. Her love, though, was more than he could have ever imagined - absolution, total sublimity. He could never believe his luck, nor ever tire of her affection, not in a million years.

Their love was as strong as it was delicate, her emotions so deeply tied to his and his to hers. He wanted to take the burden from her but knew he could not, wanted to fill her with the feelings she caused to rise in him, feelings that had only grown with time and made him nearly burst from their fullness, their completeness. He had never felt like this, never. It was almost alarming. He, who had been completely controlled, an impenetrable fortress, empty of almost anything good, felt as though he had no more of a handle upon his emotions than a child did. The extent of the whims of his heart were unknowingly, frighteningly deep. He felt as though he did not even know himself anymore, and could not believe how easily this woman before him had unwound him without seeming to even really try. Her brilliance, her beauty, her goodness, blinded him to anything that existed before her. He could not - and did not wish to - think what his life had been. There was simply nothing worth remembering before Hermione.

He was suddenly seized with the desire to have her, then and there. He felt ridiculous, like an impatient schoolboy. But he wanted to hold her and make her know that she was loved, that he was here, that her worries were his worries and were too heavy to weigh on her alone, that there was nothing, nothing in the world that could cause his affection for her to cease.

He lowered himself towards her, gingerly pressing his lips to her forehead before embracing her, feeling her arms move to wrap around his neck as he nestled into hers. It felt so perfect, his arms around her back, her form so familiar to him, fitting so comfortably beneath him. How many times had he held her like this? Enough that his body knew hers line for line, curve for curve, but not so many that it did not please him every time they lied like this. His heart was in his throat as he turned his lips towards her again. "I want you," he murmured quietly in her ear.

Words that would have before caused her to shiver with pleasure now filled her with uncertainty. He pulled away slightly to look down at her when she at first said nothing.

"Here?" she asked, her eyes opening and searching his. She looked reticent.

"I only..." he stopped. He struggled to find the words, his hands finding and squeezing softly her arms just below her shoulders. "I want to love you, Hermione." His voice was tight as he tried to make her understand. "Without any pretense. Without any expectations."

She looked away, then back to him. "Are you not sick of it?" she asked, airing for the first time that particular worry. She looked stricken.

He appeared plaintive, his eyes searching hers now. "I could never be sick of it," he murmured, finding her hand with his and bringing it to his cheek, leaning into her palm. "I could never not want you." He could feel the fingers of her other hand twisting the tips of his hair.

She blushed, the tightness in her chest lessening as she listened to his earnest words. She sucked at her lower lip, indecisively, before looking around them once more and nodding slightly. She squeezed his shoulder before placing a hand on his chest, above his heart, the thumb of her hand upon his cheek stroking the deep line which ran from his nose to the corner of his lips. His dark gaze held hers for a moment, but his eyes closed before he lowered his head to kiss her.

He turned onto his side and she followed, her legs tangled in his, her hand still below his cheek, the other pressed against his back. He tenderly kissed her, his hands folding her close to him before his fingertips ran up and down her back. They lied like this for a little while, for he could tell she was tense, coiled like a spring. He wanted to wait for her to relax before going any further.

His left hand soon wandered aimlessly down her side, along her hip, then to her thigh, and he felt her soft skin beneath his. He kissed her delicately, then with slightly more pressure as she pushed back to him. Pleasant sensations bubbled in her chest and elsewhere as she felt his lips and his body against hers. When he pulled away she opened her eyes, the sight of him beside her causing her heart to swell too. There was nothing she loved more than to be the focus of his affection, when she could see that his eyes had grown large and soft, when she knew that he wanted her and he knew it, too.

He moved to pull his wand out of his pocket with his right hand. She watched as he propped himself on his elbow then pointed the tip of his wand in a circle around them, his left hand never leaving her skin. The branches of the willow tree filled out and lowered to brush against the ground, screening them from view. He cast _Muffliato_ as an afterthought, then rolled his wand away from them on the blanket and lowered himself back towards her.

He knew her as no one else could, he thought, as he ran his hand along the soft skin behind her knee, down her slim calf and skinny ankle. And as he knew her, so she knew him. She loved his broad shoulders, the sparse black chest hairs peeking out from his white shirt, his flat bottom lip and the curve of his upper, the strong muscles of his lower back. Suddenly, she felt like she had not seen him clearly, not really looked at him properly, for some time. She had forgotten how truly handsome he was. How his eyes could make her feel with only a look.

He was above her again, waiting for her to roll onto her back. She obliged, feeling his knees gently part hers, his arms at her side as he hovered over her, kissing her, then moved lower, his eyes never leaving hers for more than a moment. He kissed her stomach, feeling her draw her knees up, her hands moving to sit on his shoulders.

He timidly pushed up the skirt of her dress, kissing the inside of her thigh and then pressing his cheek against it. He ran his fingers along her opposite knee and then traced up and down her leg, admiring the birthmark on her calf, the scar on her shin, the white of her skin such a contrast to his yellowed, scarred hand. A strong breeze shook the willow's branches, one sweeping onto and catching at his hair and her knee before drifting back, the wind subsiding. Hermione closed her eyes and allowed herself to sense it all, the soft blanket padded by grass under her back, the smell of the warm earth, his lips on her thigh again before pulling away.

His hands went to her hips, under her dress, and she helped him remove her underwear, placing it to the side. His hands then went to hers as he lowered himself, his right thumb brushing the back of her hand while the fingers of his other thread through hers. He slowly moved to kiss the skin below her navel, the top of her mound, his mouth then meeting her center. She gasped quietly, her thighs tightening, her brow furrowed, and his mouth quickly moved to leave kisses on her thigh as he waited for her to relax.

Once her hands loosened their grip on his, his mouth and then tongue gently pressed upon her core. He could feel her begin to tense again, but from the expression upon her face and the opening of her thighs it was this time from pleasure. He closed his eyes and listened to her breathe, feeling her body slowly begin to respond to him. He, in turn, began to move his tongue more precisely and more strongly, listening to her responsive low moan as he did so. It took some time, but she began to move against him and then suddenly shuddered, a quiet cry issuing from her until the feeling subsided. She breathed shallowly and felt him move over her once more, again gentle and tender, folding her in his arms.

He laid upon her, his body positioned between her legs, his member hard against her stomach. His mouth found hers and she returned his kisses, her hands grasping the fabric of his shirt.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his nose pressed to hers, his hands under her back.

She nodded, grinning slightly, tilting her face upwards to kiss him. "I'm fine," she whispered. She brushed her right hand along his chest, then returned it to lie around his neck.

His hips pressed to hers and he kissed her nose, then her brow, not wanting to let go of her. But then her right ankle hooked around his calf and she let out a little whimper in the back of her throat, pushing up to him, eager for him. Her brown eyes found his, and he saw in them something he had not seen in some time - impatient desire. It was more than he could bear.

He disentangled himself from her and moved away slightly, unbuttoning the front of his trousers and pulling himself free of them. He leaned forward to kiss her several times more before using his hand to push her dress up and position himself.

He slowly entered her, moving to put his weight on his arms, his hips resting upon hers. They both drew in a sharp breath of air, the feeling of their bodies coming together so exquisite, so wonderful. He placed his lips on hers and she moaned quietly into his mouth as he gently moved his bottom up and down, his torso resting on hers as his hips moved. He cradled her face with his hands, gasping slightly himself as he rested his nose upon hers, then ran his thumbs along her cheeks, looking into her eyes. Her hands ran up his arms, down to his waist, then up his back, her palms resting flat on his shoulder blades, feeling his muscles taut beneath his shirt.

She moaned quietly, simply enjoying the waves of pleasure coursing through her, the feel of him inside her and above her almost unbelievable, even now. He tenderly sifted his fingers through her hair, felt the skin of her neck, her small ears, her face alternating between focused on him above her, her eyes searching him, and looking as though she were somewhere far away, somewhere only he could take her.

"Hermione," he mumbled, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed. He kissed her, both moaning with pleasure. They moved in that way for a while, Severus kissing her, at times resting his forehead against hers, touching her nose with his, one hand on her cheek, the other in her hair. They gave short little gasps together, Hermione's changing into a deep groan as she began to strain beneath him, to clutch at his arched back. He felt it rising in him too. Their eyes held the other's and they both gasped sharply, crying out, moving with and clinging to the other as they found their release, explosive, breathtaking.

With loud sputtering gasps they collapsed into each other, her hands encircling his back as he laid his weight on her, their hearts beating rapidly in their chests. It was a while before he pulled himself from her, giving her several kisses before doing so.

He turned away, using his wand to clean himself before buttoning his trousers and lying on his side next to her, still warm and calm in the afterglow. She had pulled down the skirt of her dress and rolled to face him, resting her head upon his shoulder as he stretched out his right arm. She curled toward him, her right hand upon his chest, and he drew her tight, his left hand meeting his right upon her hip. She felt that she fit so perfectly here, the shape of her following his so well. The tips of her still-trembling fingers sat on his exposed chest, enjoying the warmth of his skin and the sun through the leaves. They were both still breathing a bit shallowly. She closed her eyes.

She regressed back into her thoughts from the past months, thoughts she could not keep away, thinking on the sadness, the frustration. And she felt that despite everything that had happened, despite her wishes, as long as she still had Severus to hold... she would be okay. She desperately wanted a child, and her stomach sickened at the thought that she had failed so far in that. But as long as she could still see Severus's eyes - feel his heartbeat under her hand - life would still be good. And that was really all that mattered.

Her fingertips moved to his left shoulder, swirling leisurely in circles as she looked upon him. His eyes were closed now, his lips turned upwards in a small smile. Oh, how she loved him, so steady through all of this, refusing to allow her any of the blame, not letting her despair more than was reasonable, remaining ever hopeful even when she struggled. He did so even despite the fact that this had touched every facet of their lives, that she could not break her mind from it, that she had in the past few months turned what used to be a beautiful declaration of love into a desperate, disappointing act. She felt so much guilt. In pursuit of this nebulous thing she thought would make them happy, she had only managed to cause them deep sorrow, the most prolonged in their relationship. She felt broken, in more ways than one. Sometimes she felt as though she might succeed in breaking them, too.

His hand squeezed her hip, and she realized he was looking down at her, his expression questioning, uncertain. Just now, it felt to her like gazing into the sun. She felt she hardly deserved it, for him to tenderly hold her close as though nothing was the matter. His gentleness and worry unlocked something within her, her eyes suddenly becoming watery and her lower lip trembling before she looked away.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly, his eyes showing his concern, his brow furrowing.

She could only nod, pressing her forehead to his chest to hide her tears, her right hand having moved from his chest to his back. She had not expected this surge of emotion.

He pressed his palm to her back, rubbing it gently, squeezing her tightly with his other hand. She had begun to shake. "It's okay," he said quietly, those two words having become his mantra over the past months. She must be sick of hearing them; they must offer so little comfort. He could hear her muffled sniffling beneath him, her hand clutching his back, and soon her body was wracked with small sobs, her knees drawn up as she curled against him further. "Hermione," he mumbled sadly, knowing that when she became like this that there was little he could do. She was simply inconsolable. He ran his hand along her back without stopping, waiting until she calmed down. He could feel his shirt becoming damp and warm from her tears and her breath, and he could not help but believe that the blame for this rested upon his shoulders. She had been too fragile for this - he should not have asked this of her, not today.

When she had finished crying she laid there, her hands still clutching at the fabric of his shirt. She felt guilty again, this time for spoiling such a lovely afternoon. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He kissed the crown of her head. "There is simply nothing to be sorry for," he murmured. "Nothing." Her face turned up towards him, her cheeks and eyes red. "I love you," he whispered, watching her bottom lip tremble again. Her mouth opened and her eyes moved away from his, her expression now one of true despair. His left hand moved to rest on her cheek. She closed her eyes. "And I will continue to do so, no matter what happens. I will not go anywhere. There is nothing to fear," he murmured quietly, trying to understand what it was that so distressed her, to dissuade her from whatever thoughts she might be having. The wind gusted around them, throwing his hair over his face and pushing up the skirt of her dress, before settling down again. She clung to him as though anchored by her hands in his shirt, holding on tight, trying so hard not to fall into the pit of despair below her.

He placed his lips on her forehead, then edged down the blanket, gently peppering her red face with kisses. He did not stop, not when her face grew relaxed, not when she began to struggle to suppress a grin, not when he moved over her and she turned her head away, saying, "Your hair's tickling me."

He gently kissed her earlobe, her neck, then finally stopped and looked down at her, his forearms on either side of her shoulders. He could not tell what she was feeling from her expression. She simply looked exhausted. He went to wipe a tear from her eye and she quickly did it herself, her nose still stuffy, her eyes still red. She looked up at him again.

"I love you, Severus," she said, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He leaned over her once more, his mouth soft and lingering on hers.

"I love _you_ ," he said quietly, firmly. His eyes searched her face, and he felt his chest tighten once more with feeling for her.

She felt almost ashamed. How could she ever believe otherwise, the way he looked at her?

He was on his side again, pulling her to him, kissing her hair, feeling particularly protective. "Would you prefer to go back to the castle?" he asked, unsure if she wanted to return home.

"No," she murmured. "I'd rather just stay here, if that's okay."

"Of course," he replied.

She pressed her forehead against his chest, taking comfort in his touch and his familiar scent, closing her eyes to rest a bit. She felt so very tired.

His hand trailed up and down her arm, then her back, as he thought to himself. It was painful now, but surely, sometime soon... he was hopeful that these tears would all be forgotten someday, in the joy of what had eluded them so far. He did not know whether to share this view with her, whether it was right or cruel to remind her to remain hopeful. He did not voice this opinion - he doubted it would help much. And until it happened... He placed his chin on her head and drew her a little closer. Well, until then, whatever the intervening period, he would simply have to be there for her. It was all he could do.

* * *

I have plans for this to be a two-part fic, so hang tight :)

Characters are from my longer fic, _Confluence of Truths._ I love them too much to put them away!

Thank you for reading xx


	2. Chapter 2

_._

 _._

 _Two years later_

 _._

 _._

She was ahead of him on the path. Most of the students had left for the Easter holidays, and they had taken the opportunity to leave the castle together. It was a cool spring day, the mist caught among the treetops in the hills and drifting in the air around them. The winter had been harsh, especially in the dungeons, but it had led on to a surprisingly mild spring, the snowdrops and daffodils appearing early and in abundance. Severus enjoyed the feel of the fresh breeze on his face, his cheeks tinted pink from its cool touch.

Hermione turned to look at him. "Well, come on - keep up!" she called, standing on a flagstone pathway. She looked down at him from halfway up a small hill.

He stood and placed one hand on his hip, feeling not as fit as he used to be. "Perhaps I'd be able to if you didn't walk so quickly," he retorted. He tried his best to not sound out of breath. "As I recall, we came out for a walk, not a ramble."

"Wamble!" a voice called loudly from the carrier tied around Hermione's front. Severus looked at his wife again and smiled.

He was always surprised by the intensity of the affection that welled up in his chest when he saw her and Lucan, their son, together. He looked upon them now, Hermione standing tall, her wavy hair pulled up from her face. She appeared vibrant, her eyes bright, a faint mist forming near her lips as she breathed out. She wore a light blue shirt tucked into a black skirt, and a black cloak was tied around her neck. Lucan was facing outward from her chest, his eyes alert, his legs kicking slightly, supported by the Muggle baby carrier Hermione's mother had gifted them. Severus began walking towards them again, his cape billowing out behind him as the breeze caught it. Hermione watched from above and waited, a small grin on her lips as he came up the path at a steady pace.

Lucan too was watching his father and began babbling in what seemed to be an admonishing tone as he approached. When the nonsensical noises stopped, Severus, now just below them, gently responded with shortened breath, "Well, it's easy for you, isn't it - you're getting carried around."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "And who's doing all the carrying?" she asked, gesturing towards herself. "You have no excuse," she retorted, looking at him before smiling again.

He took in the sight of the toddler, whose big, grey eyes - Severus's own eyes - were looking up at him. His soft black hair was just long enough to tuck behind an ear, and peaked out from under the green knit hat Hermione had placed on his head. His cheeks were rosy and round, several teeth showing when he smiled, and he babbled to his father again before kicking his legs and flailing his arms, bouncing up and down in excitement.

"We'll let you down in a minute," Hermione explained, "once we walk a bit further along."

After allowing several moments to collect themselves they began on the path again, walking together. They skirted along the edge of the forest, remaining on a stony trail that kept the trees to their left, the castle now below them. They gained a bit more elevation before turning into the woods, the path lined with beautiful white and black birch trees. The yellow-green of the new year's leaves were just beginning to color the tips of the branches.

Severus walked alongside Hermione now, the path wide enough for the two of them. He took her hand in his, watching her smile up at him in response. His cheeks blushed with pleasure as he felt her thumb brush along the back of his hand, her fingers squeezing his tight. In moments like this, he felt as though he was living someone else's life. There was simply too much happiness for it to be his own.

He smiled to himself as he thought of Hermione's unbridled joy when she found out she was expecting. She had been almost delirious, her euphoria and excitement contagious to him even now. But after this initial jubilation was a wave of other emotions. She had immediately turned tearful, collapsing into his arms, alternately laughing and crying into his neck as he held her. The strain of more than a year of denied hope had taken its toll on her, and she did not know if she could allow herself to believe it. He had mostly felt relieved, as though a massive weight had been taken off his shoulders.

Her emotions had been shortly followed by the fear that it might be a fluke, and then worry, and then over time the acceptance that it was really happening. He had vivid memories of her sitting in the corner of the settee, her hands folded around her gently rounded stomach as though protecting a secret only they knew. There were other memories, too, from those brief months when their life seemed to be ever-changing and yet in a sort of limbo. She would at times unexpectedly seek him out and take hold of his wrist, placing his palm to her middle and watching the expression on his face as he felt the baby's turns and kicks. It astonished him every time. Every so often they would sit on his armchair, her knees over one arm and her back supported by the other as she sat in his lap. He would run a hand over the swell of her belly, amazed at the thought of what lay just beneath the skin, as she read aloud from a book or listened to the radio or asked about his classes. There were certain things he had not anticipated about the pregnancy, such as how much the baby moved, how Hermione would struggle with her sore and tired body, and certainly not how big she would grow to be. There were things that books simply couldn't prepare him for.

And then one day, Lucan was simply there. Before he was born, Severus had been unable to comprehend the joy that he would feel for this new person. It had not happened instantly, as it seemed to with Hermione. He came to know it gradually, in the little daily moments they shared as his son grew, and in places that he had not expected to find it. It was in the smile Lucan gave him when Severus retrieved him after a nap. It was in the way Lucan would throw his arms in the air to be picked up when Severus came through the doorway. The complete trust he showed when he fell asleep in his arms, his cheek on Severus's shoulder as his eyes blinked slowly and then shut. The few occasions when he called for daddy instead of mummy. And quickly enough, Severus had begun to feel a steadfast love for this little baby, and he became as much a part of him as Hermione was. Lucan's joys, his sorrows, his fears... Severus had begun to feel them all, just as he had Hermione's, as if they were his own - for they were.

However, just as everything in Severus's life, it had not all been so easy. Severus and Hermione were both, unwillingly, something like public figures. Not because they were in the public eye - in fact, quite the opposite - but because of the large, seemingly contradictory parts they both played in the not too distant history of their world. Hermione was universally praised, her talent and character never in doubt. Severus, however, had remained in much contention, the kind of person that nearly everyone had an opinion about, invariably uninformed and yet often heated. At best he was an unsavory Potions master, a bully to his students, and a hermit, perhaps too ashamed to show himself, so they reasoned. At worst he had been Voldemort's most trusted servant, Albus Dumbledore's betrayer and murderer, a Dark wizard through and through. Not many knew them or their story, and so very few knew the truth. It was only by the grace of a strongly worded letter from Hermione, replete with thinly veiled blackmail, that Rita Skeeter had remained (surprising to many) silent on the whole affair.

But that did not deter others from saying what they liked. The nature of their relationship was the kind of thing that witches and wizards, many who had never met either of them, would discuss in a tipsy haze, so few facts to dissuade them from whatever belief they wished to hold. Surely, he was slipping her a love potion. Or perhaps she was under the Imperius curse. No woman could willingly want him - he so cruel, so hideous, so marred. And Hermione Granger, so bright, so beautiful, unequivocally on the side of good. It was unimaginable to most, a lurid mystery to the masses who believed what they wanted, the more scandalous, the better.

He had felt strangely embarrassed for Hermione, for the knowing looks she was given when she was pregnant, her condition obvious, their private doings laid bare for all to see. Surely there would have been offhand, snide remarks. And then when they went out in public with the baby, for Hermione to get some fresh air and be around others... He would not meet the eye of anyone else but would catch phrases, hear words, as everyone around them turned to look and comment. _Miserable git,_ he had heard someone murmur. _Twice her age,_ said another. _Poor child._ Or the worst offender, heard everywhere he went, the hard sound at the beginning the giveaway every time. _Death Eater._

After all this time, it still angered him and injured him when it should not have. He should know better, have more control over these emotions. He could not control what they said. But it was different when it came to Hermione, and now to their son. He wanted only the best for them. He wanted others to see them as he did, for the pure good that they were. It devastated him to be the cause of any pain or prejudice they suffered. How could Hermione look at him so, when she and her son's character were called into question by the mere fact that their surname was Snape? It was simply, deeply, unfair.

But when alone, when the thought of everyone else was pushed to the back of his mind, Severus would sit and look in wonder upon his son. He found it incredible that Lucan, who had never known any different, who had spent his life completely at their side, did not truly understand who his parents were. He did not know of their past or what they meant to his wider world. He loved them both all the same. His innocence struck Severus as something beautiful. It felt to him like starting over, as if it did not matter what he had been, only what he was to Hermione and Lucan. Only those closest to him, and what they thought, really mattered. And it was true - despite the lapses of pain that others could make him feel - and it had been true for quite some time. It had taken Lucan, however, to make him really see it.

Severus looked down at the baby in the carrier, listening to him blow raspberries, then heard as Hermione responded in kind. He smiled again. No, he saw nothing wrong in relying upon these two to be the guiding lights in his life.

It was not long before they entered a wide clearing, the movement of a very large figure on the other side drawing their attention.

"Ag-ag!" Lucan called loudly, excitedly.

"'Allo!" was the booming return, and Hermione watched as Lucan again kicked his legs impatiently, wanting to be let down.

Lucan could not say 'Hagrid', and his attempt at the two syllable name had evolved into simply repeating what he could say of the first syllable twice. Hermione had found it endearing, and Hagrid himself preferred the nickname to his real name, so much that he now signed his letters to Hermione with this new appellation.

"'ermione - Severus - 'ow are yeh?" asked the groundskeeper. He stepped off the blade of the giant shovel, the handle sticking out of the deep hole he had been in the process of digging. Several large tree trunks stripped of their branches laid in a towering pile nearby. Hagrid stepped out of the hole, brushed his hands on his knees, and stood tall.

"Glad to have a break," Hermione responded. The small family stood together, now only a few feet from the groundskeeper. Lucan continuously, excitedly, repeated 'Ag-ag'. "And you?"

"Well it's a good thing it's got ter be a bi' warmer; I never though' spring would come!" He nodded his head towards the holes he was making. "'ave ter make a bigger paddock fer the blast-ended skrewts - gettin' a bi' crowded near the castle."

As he said this, Hermione pulled out her wand and twirled it to untie the carrier, carefully extricating Lucan from it and setting him down on his feet. She stood and bundled it up, Severus taking the beaded bag from her and opening it, helping her to put away the carrier. She and Severus did this as they watched Lucan steadily walk towards Hagrid, his arms outstretched as he babbled.

"An' 'ow 'ave _you_ bin?" Hagrid asked merrily, his hands on his knees as he turned his attention to Lucan. He scooped up the toddler with his giant hands as soon as he was within reach, nestling him in the crook of his right arm.

Lucan's hands were immediately lost in Hagrid's beard, and the half-giant did not seem to mind that Lucan was tugging with astonishing strength at his coarse hair.

"Oh, Luke," admonished Hermione, slinging the strap of her bag around her shoulder, "don't pull!"

"'E's all righ'," Hagrid replied cheerfully. His glistening eyes turned to Hermione and then back towards her son, who now began to babble emphatically as though telling Hagrid everything that had happened since the last time they'd seen each other. Hermione and Severus stood side by side as they watched the pair. Her hand went to his back, absentmindedly, and ran up and down it.

The toddler had now preoccupied himself with his other favorite thing about Hagrid - his moleskin overcoat. He began unbuttoning the pockets upon it, rifling through them, pulling out and inspecting teabags and sugar cubes and a ball of string and several Knuts, delicately replacing them as Hagrid watched.

He then discovered a soft, sleeping Puffskein and held it out for Hagrid to inspect. Lucan stroked it before placing his cheek upon its fluffy back, saying, "Aww," as he cuddled it. Neither Hermione nor Severus could suppress smiles at this.

"Righ' you are," Hagrid replied, his surely beaming smile lost in the depths of his beard. "Lovely things, aren' they, Puffskeins?"

Lucan handed the Puffskein back to Hagrid, who tucked it back into its warm sleeping place. Lucan then reached into another pocket and pulled out an iridescent purple feather almost as big as he was.

"Well, wha' do yer know - I was savin' tha' fer yeh," chuckled Hagrid, who looked towards Severus and Hermione. "Yer've go' a righ' smart babber 'ere, an' it's no wonder, seein' 'ho's 'is paren's are," he said warmly. Lucan had begun waving the feather in the air, then tried to bend it. "Tha's an Occamy feather," Hagrid explained.

"Oc-cy-er," Lucan mumbled

"Fea-ther," Hermione said, more clearly.

"Fev-ver," Lucan mimicked. He stared at it before opening his mouth and moving the feather towards it.

Hagrid quickly bent it away. "Now, yer don' know where tha's been," he admonished patiently.

"Perhaps we'll hold onto it," Severus suggested.

"Probably fer the bes'," Hagrid agreed. He removed the feather from Lucan's grasp and handed it to Severus. He drew out his wand and tied the feather to the strap of Hermione's beaded bag with a bit of string he conjured, the glistening feather now dangling down her back.

"Isn't that a sight!" exclaimed a voice from behind them. Hermione and Severus turned, watching as Pomona Sprout bumbled down the path they had just come along. She was dressed in drab robes, wet and muddy at the hem, and looked her normal, chipper self. "Severus Snape, out in the daylight?" she teased, readjusting her slightly mossy hat so it sat straighter on her head. "Won't you be going up in flames any second now?"

Severus looked her up and down, then quickly wet his lips before responding, "Pomona Sprout, away from her weeds and her dung heap?"

"Funny you say that, Severus," she quipped, "as I'm here to get some manure from Rubeus." The corner of his lip twitched, but her attention had turned to Lucan, who she noticed was in Hagrid's arms. "Hello, Rubeus, Hermione" she said. "And hello, sweetheart!" she exclaimed at Lucan, waving to him.

Lucan became timid, whimpering slightly and reaching for Hermione. She took him from Hagrid and tried to set him on his feet, to his protests. He clung to her and she pulled him into her arms, turning sideways so that he faced towards Pomona but then feeling him burrow into her neck.

"Go on, then, say hello," Hermione encouraged in his ear. He begrudgingly turned his head, and his large grey eyes shyly peeked out towards the Herbology professor. She waved at him again, the tips of her fingers bending up and down. The toddler mimicked her hand motion then quickly turned away, pressing his face against his mother's shoulder in embarrassment.

"Oo, isn't he _lovely,"_ Pomona cooed. She looked up at Hagrid, who had nodded and murmured his agreement, and then to Hermione, who blushed with happiness. "And look at him - there's no doubt who's son he is, is there?" she said, her hands on her hips, winking at Severus. Hermione looked up at him, as though Pomona's words had thrilled her.

He nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. Pomona Sprout never would have winked at him before, teased him before, without Hermione by his side. Though he had lived in the castle and worked alongside them for nearly thirty years, he had never interacted with his fellow professors in any capacity other than Potions master. Whether it was to procure ingredients or discuss disciplinary action, he had only ever spoken to them as colleagues. As equals yes, but as distant and formal associates. It had been Hermione who had formed real relationships with those around him, who had brought him into a social circle that before he had so clearly stood on the outside of. She was remarkable, again and again the catalyst for everything good in his life.

"Are they nearby then, Rubeus?" Professor Sprout asked.

"Oh - righ'," he said, tearing his eyes from Lucan, who had been looking up at him over Hermione's shoulder. "I've bin meanin' ter tell yeh, 'ermione, Severus." He began to look a bit excited, which alarmed them both. "Jus' over the way, I've go' some... well... I'll keep it a surprise. You can jus' follow, an' see." This, too, did little to soothe their nerves.

Hagrid turned towards the path to his left and led the small party, Pomona making several quick steps to keep up with the half-giant's large stride while chatting amiably about the weather. Severus and Hermione exchanged glances before silently agreeing that he would walk in front, and Hermione and Lucan would bring up the rear.

They walked together in silence. They took care to avoid the rocks and roots and muddy puddles in the trail, Hermione watching where Severus placed his feet and copying his steps, listening to Pomona's ebullient laughter up ahead and the birds twittering merrily in the trees. Lucan began fidgeting in Hermione's arms before she placed him on her hip so he could see better. She readjusted the hat on his head, noticing his pink cheeks and nose.

"Severus," she asked, "do you think he's a bit cold?"

He stopped, letting her reach him, and he extended his hand to touch Lucan's cheek. He noticed with a tinge of affection that her cheeks and nose were also a bit pink. He wondered if his own were, too. "He'll be fine, I'm sure," he assured quietly, his hand going back to his side. "It'll get warmer as the day goes on. It's only just morning."

"Keep up!" Hagrid boomed from in front, looking back at them. "I don' want ter be lookin' fer yeh if yeh get lost!" He and Professor Sprout crested a small hill and disappeared over it.

The Snape family followed, quickly reaching the knoll and ascending it. Once at the top, they saw below them a flat area which they realized had been made into a paddock. Standing at the fence near Hagrid and Pomona was a pure white creature, a golden miniature on either side of her.

"Look, Lucan," exclaimed Hermione breathlessly, "unicorns!" They skirted down the path until it flattened out, Hermione striding towards Hagrid, Severus hanging slightly back. "How did you manage to get them here?" she asked. She stared at the tall, brilliantly white mother and her two golden offspring, who jostled with her to eat the sugar cubes Hagrid offered from his palm.

"Well, I 'ad seen the mum in the forest, an' she wasn' well, from the look of 'er. She'd foaled twins, bu' she was strugglin' ter feed 'em both, yeh see. I set ou' some oats an' hay an' it was easy enough ter close the gate behind 'em." He patted the side of the unicorn's neck affectionately, leaning back slightly as she turned her head, her horn sweeping the air to point at him. Lucan babbled excitedly in his mother's arms, desperately wanting to touch the animals but to his annoyance being held back. It was more for the unicorns' safety than his own. "I'll let 'em go soon enough, when she's feelin' 'erself again."

Pomona was stroking the mane of one of the foals, looking them up and down and then letting her eyes wander toward the rather large pile of dung which sat beneath a nearby tree, ready for the taking. She gleefully thought of the giant, sprightly Leaping Toadstools she would be able to grow this year. Oh, yes - she would not be outdone at the Hogsmeade Harvest Festival _this_ time.

Severus had not seen a unicorn since his own school days, and it was just as astonishing now as it had been then - the white so bright it glowed, the mane a soft silver, the hooves shiny and golden. The creature seemed ethereal, almost otherworldly, as though it did not belong in a setting as mundane as this. It was an illustration from a fairy tale made real, he thought, watching Hermione hold Lucan's wrist in hers and touch his palm to the mare's nose, his face turning up to hers in surprise at the softness.

Hagrid had grabbed a large bag of oats from a shed beside the paddock and poured a small amount into a bucket. He hung this on a fence post near Hermione, watching as the mare quickly put her nose into it, eating from it contentedly. As Hagrid topped up another bucket with a bundle of hay, Pomona went over to inspect the dung heap.

"You can ge' a bi' closer, if you like, Severus," Hagrid encouraged the Potions master, noticing the interest with which he observed the creatures.

"Oh... I shouldn't wish to take my chances," he found himself saying. It was well known that unicorns were repelled by men, especially those of impure character.

The groundskeeper replaced the bag in the small shelter and walked back to stand near Severus. "Tha's an old witch's tale," he dismissed, his voice low, placing his hands in his pockets. "Besides, I wouldn'..." Hagrid stopped and looked at him out of the corner of his eye, then back upon the shining white creature. She was swishing her tail contentedly as Lucan lightly smacked her forehead, Hermione quickly pulling him away. "Yer not so bad as all tha', is all." His cheeks turned a bit ruddy in embarrassment, then he looked down at the ground.

Severus too looked away, surprised that the groundskeeper would have held such a view of him. Hagrid cleared his throat, then began to turn away.

"Ah, hmm," he mumbled, realizing he had forgotten something. He frowned and patted the outside of several of his pockets before opening one, pulling out a small drawstring pouch. "Bin meanin' ter give this to yeh."

He handed it to Severus, who accepted it and gently pulled it open. It was full of unicorn hair. It was an extremely powerful ingredient for potion making, but also incredibly expensive, worth up to ten Galleons a hair. In this bag was something like a small fortune, and Hagrid would surely have known this.

"This is much too kind-" Severus began.

"Don' say nothin' 'bout it," he said, shaking his head. "It's not doin' any good on their brush."

"Even so - thank you," Severus insisted. He pulled the drawstring closed and tucked into a pocket. "It'll be put to good use."

"Righ'," Hagrid nodded, once. "Good."

Severus nodded in return, held Hagrid's gaze for a moment, and then walked to Hermione. He covered the space between them in a few strides. Hagrid went to join Pomona, to sort out how she would transport the dung to the greenhouses.

"Would you mind holding him?" Hermione asked. "My arms hurt a bit."

She handed their son over to Severus and stretched out her sore arms, looking down at the golden foal which was rubbing its hornless forehead against the wooden fence.

"Look!" Lucan said, pointing at the mother unicorn as though his father had not yet noticed.

"She's nice, isn't she?" he asked, still a bit wary, settling Lucan onto his forearm. "Do you think she'll like me?" He looked into her big, black eyes and, sensing no revulsion in them, reached out his hand and gently touched her neck.

He half expected her to rear up but she did not, never breaking from eating her lunch. He patted her neck before simply laying his hand upon it, feeling the heat of her skin and the muscles in her neck tightening as she chewed. One of her foals lifted its head to nibble at Severus's black sleeve before running off, cantering around the paddock with its twin in a joyous chase.

Hermione had come to stand beside Severus. "Maybe we should go find a place to eat our own lunch," she suggested. "I'm getting a bit hungry."

Severus let his arm drop and nodded. "I know a meadow not far from here," he offered. They watched as the unicorn finished eating, turning away from them to find her water trough. Severus set Lucan onto his feet, his large hand grasping the toddler's tiny one as he took several unsteady steps on the uneven ground. "This way," he directed, along the left side of the paddock. Hermione took Lucan's left hand in her right, and they walked slowly along the path.

"We're off now," Hermione said to the two professors, a rather large, enchanted wheelbarrow now sitting between them. "We'll see you soon," she promised. "And thank you!"

"Yes, thank you," Severus agreed, looking at Hagrid.

Pomona cheerfully replied, "See you later!"

"Bye!" said Hagrid, looking down at Lucan again.

"Bye-bye!" Lucan exclaimed, a big smile on his face, his legs taking big steps as he and his parents followed the trail.

It had become a bit warmer, as Severus had thought it would, the sun even breaking through the clouds intermittently. They walked down the wide path together, taking their time, on their way passing through a wood with a low, dense covering of bluebells between the tree trunks. It was stunning, the purple of the flowers almost luminous. They felt lucky to have seen it, just as they had the unicorn, the lush carpet only appearing for a couple of weeks a year. The forest was full of magical places, they supposed, but this felt especially enchanted.

Lucan was looking up in the trees and all around, uninterested in walking now, slowing their pace to a standstill. After taking a few moments to admire their surroundings, Hermione looked at Severus and then down to their son.

"Big jump, Luke!" she said, grasping his hand tighter. "One, two, three," she counted, and he was lifted in the air by them both, giggling with pleasure, landing on his feet after swinging through the air. Severus could not help but smile.

"More," Lucan demanded, his expression serious until his parents lifted him in the air again. At this his face broke into a wide smile, gleeful laughs erupting from him.

After plenty of jumping and swinging, they eventually reached the meadow Severus had intended to find. Hermione opened her bag, rummaged through it to find a blanket, and then set it out upon the damp grass at the edge of the clearing. The meadow was full of flowers, yellow and pink and white. They sat down and watched the butterflies fluttering up above, spied a rabbit nibbling at the tender shoots in the undergrowth, and spotted an owl with a letter flying overhead. They even watched as a family of garden gnomes walked by, seemingly oblivious to the three humans sitting so close. It was beautiful.

Severus felt a pinch of guilt that he had lived here for so long and never truly realized how wonderful the castle's setting was. But then, he could have come here on a day just like this, the bluebells flowering, the sun on his skin, and never seen it for what it was. It was like a potion, he mused, feeling trite and a bit softhearted. The addition of Hermione and Lucan to his life had caused something wholly new and different to burst forth, something entirely unlike what had sat in the cauldron just before. Something that would never have altered from its original state - not without them.

He would miss this place, this castle, he thought. It had been his home for over thirty years. But although everyone in the castle adored Lucan, and there were certain benefits to living here, they felt it was time to make their own home. It would be best for them to find somewhere perhaps more their own, more spacious, and more child-friendly.

However, last year, after one warm summer's evening spent outside, they had returned to their chambers to find a brand new wooden door beside the one that led to their bedroom. Severus had been alert, mystified, his wand in one hand as he opened the door with the other, Lucan in Hermione's arms behind him. Beyond the door was a small room similar to their own, with high windows and a small closet for storage. They had initially been astonished then almost unsurprised by what was surely another mystery of the castle, responding to the needs of its inhabitants in a way it might not have needed to in quite some time. It almost felt like the castle wanted them to stay. Despite this, and despite the innate draw Hogwarts had on them both, they knew they could not live in the dungeons forever. And Severus knew, in any case, that his home would follow Hermione - wherever she went.

"Oh, no - not in there," Hermione admonished, pulling several leaves out of Lucan's mouth that he had managed to grab hold of. She moved him to sit in the center of the blanket and he pulled off his hat, then tugged at his shoes irritably.

Severus, knowing that Lucan was simply bored, pulled out his wand and sent out colorful bubbles to entertain him. The toddler reached for them, listening to them pop gently as he touched them. The bubbles were followed by tiny streams of gold and silver, twirling and dancing in midair out of Lucan's grasp. Severus flicked his wand towards the brown leaves on the ground, watching them stand on end and then spin around Lucan who tried to grab them. He then transfigured the leaves into little blue ribbons which flew through the air like birds, then clusters of bells which hung in the air and tinkled gently, then wisps of colorful smoke which intermingled and then disappeared into the air. Hermione watched them both, a small smile upon her lips at the beauty of Severus's magic, at the joy he caused Lucan, at the spells she knew he had created just for him.

Hermione pulled their lunch out of the bag. It consisted of cheese sandwiches, sliced carrots and cucumbers, a packet of crisps, and bananas for dessert. It was not sophisticated but it traveled well, and with any luck, Lucan would eat his meal without fussing.

As she was portioning out the food, Severus gained Lucan's attention. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing to Hermione.

"Mummy!" he exclaimed, crawling into her lap. She smiled, knowing he had spied the carrots and that he wanted some for himself. He reached onto the little plastic plate she had brought for him which was sat beside her hip and immediately placed several slices of carrot into his mouth. He sat down in her lap, facing outward, and watched as she moved his plate to sit in front of him.

"And who's that?" Hermione asked, pointing to Severus, who was propped up on an elbow at the edge of the blanket. He smirked at her.

"Daddy," Lucan said through his full mouth, quickly looking back to his mother for her praise, his hand over his lips to keep it all in. That word, when said by Lucan, always caused a tightening in Severus's throat, a sensation that overwhelmed him with emotion.

"Yes," she said gleefully, clapping her hands in front of him. "Well done!"

Severus and Hermione quickly ate their meal, watching as their son restlessly moved around the blanket, munching through his carrots first and then moving onto the cucumber. He asked plaintively for a crisp, and although they tried to persuade him that he would not like it, his insisted. He pressed it into his mouth and quickly screwed up his face in disgust at the salt and vinegar, spitting it out into his hand and giving it to Severus. They laughed.

After Severus had finished he was soon on his back, moving to lay his head in Hermione's lap. She leaned forward, kissing him dotingly, then looked towards Lucan, as did he. Lucan had moved on to eating his cheese sandwich, which had been cut into small squares. There was a smudge of butter against his lips and a bit of cheese and carrot hanging off his chin. He did not realize how funny he looked as he sat there concentrating on eating, a serious expression on his face as he held his lunch in his little hands.

Severus closed his eyes, feeling Hermione's fingers thread through his hair. He could not believe that he had so nearly not had this, and that he would have been none the wiser. He could not believe that there could have been a world in which there was no Hermione to kiss and hold, no Lucan to laugh with and smile at him. No Severus, his body cold and still upon the floor of the Shrieking Shack, dead mere hours before the Dark Lord himself. How cruel it would have been, to have survived two decades and to have fallen moments before the end. Life was too precious to risk it as he had done, he realized, now that he had something worth living for. It was not always so easy, no. But reflecting upon it in this way, he knew he would never take them for granted - not for a single second.

He suddenly felt a small hand leaning on his chest and Severus squinted, his eyes opening only the tiniest amount. Lucan was over him, a piece of his sandwich in his other hand which he promptly pressed against his father's lips. Hermione watched from above and giggled.

"No - that's yours," Severus mumbled, his words muffled by the bread held against his lips.

"Yours," Lucan mimicked, pressing hard, his little face concentrating as he leaned over further.

"No - Luke-" Severus insisted, his face turning away.

Lucan's knee wedged itself on top of his father's arm, and he leaned over further, showing both of his parents' trademark stubbornness as he refused to be swayed. "Yours," he repeated.

Severus finally relented, knowing that he would not be able to reason with him, and ate the piece of buttery cheese sandwich.

Lucan, satisfied, turned to go back to his plate and retrieve more. Severus, with an, "Oh, no you don't," quickly placed his hands under Lucan's arms and lifted him, holding him out at arm's length and listening to him squeal as he kicked his legs.

Lucan was now at Hermione's eye level. She leaned forward to pretend she would catch him, coming close before Severus suddenly pulled him away from her outstretched hands.

Lucan laughed a contagious full-body laugh, one that caused his parents to smile and laugh too. They repeated this game, again and again, none of them tiring of it. The joyous sound of the small family echoed through the forest around them, up through the treetops and into the skies, as the spring sun shined down upon them.

* * *

I hope this wasn't _too_ soppy for all of you, and I apologize if it was! I didn't get a chance to write much 'happy family' in _Confluence_ _of_ _Truths_ so I wanted to focus on that for this second chapter. I hope you like it - please send through a review if you do! xx


End file.
